


What Friends Are For

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: Brotp, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-21 11:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: high school au where taems parents are trash and he kinda just calls jong to talk about itHis phone is silent for a moment, long enough that Taemin thinks maybe Jonghyun just hung up, but then he hears a deep breath through the speaker.“Yikes,” is what Jonghyun says to him.tumblrtw for emotionally abusive parents and some internalized ableism about empathy shit





	What Friends Are For

The fresh, damp smell of the grass underneath Taemin’s shoes doesn’t pep him up as much as it usually does when he walks down his shortcut to the lake at dusk. He’s too bummed right now to find joy in small things. Too tired, too drained, too resigned and full of mild regret. His phone rings in his pocket and he just pulls it out enough to swipe the ignore button. Fuck that. Fuck them. **  
**

A duck quacks at him as he shuffles onto the sidewalk to the middle park of the lake. He makes a half-assed quack back and flicks a piece of lint out of his pocket at it. It goes maybe half an inch before falling to the ground and he doesn’t spare the energy to watch it land.

There are a couple of kids playing on the swings when he gets to the park; he sighs and clambers up onto the jungle gym instead, making his way to the rickety bridge so he can lay over that instead. It’s wiggly and wavy, which are both sensations that are just under the twisty sways that swings give him. Good enough.

Above him, the greying sky stares blankly back at him, the sun slowly making its way towards the horizon. Taemin lifts his arm up to cover his eyes with a heavy sigh. This is so bullshit. He hates how apathy is always so tiring. His phone vibrates again in his pocket. This time when he pulls it out, it’s just a twitter notification that he swipes away. After that he doesn’t put the phone away. He taps open some games, listlessly plays approximately fifteen seconds of each, and concedes that he doesn’t even have the energy to focus on those right now. He places the phone on his face instead, balancing it on his forehead and nose. His background image grows blurry as he continues to stare at it so close.

After another minute he sighs and picks it back up before his parents call again and make it vibrate. He should call someone else. That way he won’t have to keep ignoring the other calls physically. They’ll just be a soft beep during a conversation that he can tone out easily. Pulling up his contact list, he blinks slowly as he scrolls through everyone. Minho’s probably still at practise, Jinki is studying for his psych test, Jonghyun almost never takes calls because he doesn’t want his sister overhearing through his thin bedroom walls, Kibum’s babysitting or whatever…. Taemin sighs as he scrolls up and down his contacts. What’s the point of having friends if none of them are available to talk exactly when he needs them.

He stops on Jonghyun’s name and hovers there for a moment. Technically, Jonghyun is available. Just probably not completely willing. But this is an emergency, sort of, in Taemin’s book. A friend in need of a talk. Jonghyun can sit outside for a little bit to talk to him. He has the key to his apartment’s pool. He can sit on one of the lounge chairs for a little bit. Or he can just decline Taemin’s call and text him instead. That wouldn’t be too bad, Taemin guesses. More than the other three could give him, at least. He hesitates for just another second before he taps Jonghyun’s name and then the call button.

His curious “hello?” comes quicker than Taemin was expecting; just after the second ring. Taemin barely even heard his voice float out of the speaker because he was busy trying to wiggle to his side on the bridge so he could rest his phone against the side of his face. He’s too tired to be holding it up during a whole conversation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, scrambling to get into position and press the phone against his ear. “Hi, hey, Jonghyun,” he says when he’s settled enough. He tries not to sound kind of out of breath and probably fails. “It’s me,” he says. The softest gasp comes from the phone.

“The babe, the bro, the legend,” Jonghyun says with the lazy, slightly muffled dramatic flair that paints him sprawled out in bed with a pillow half covering his face. Taemin manages the slightest upward quirk of his lips. “What’s up?” Jonghyun asks. Taemin hums, shrugs (fully aware of how Jonghyun can’t see and not caring in the slightest), fits his hands under his head.

“Not much, just,” he mumbles. “Running away from my problems.”

“Again?” The concern in Jonghyun’s voice is clear, less muffled and more obvious in its emotion. Taemin pauses, confused, then remembers.

“Oh--no, no,” he says quickly. “Or, well. Not--not _running away,_ just. Avoiding them. For a little bit. I’m at the lake.”

“Ahh. Mmm. Okay,” Jonghyun says. Taemin hears faint rustling on the line before Jonghyun speaks again. “Wanna talk about it?”

“What about your sister?” Taemin asks. He finds a leaf stuck between the slates of the rickety bridge and pulls it out, rubs his finger over the spiked edge, places it under his nose to smell.

“She’s out tonight,” Jonghyun says. “Study group.”

“Mmm,” Taemin hums. Interesting. He suddenly doesn’t want to talk. He’s not really sure why he wanted to call someone in the first place, to be honest. He doesn’t have the energy to say full words right now, let alone tell a whole story.

“So…,” Jonghyun says slowly. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Okay, so, I’m in my room, right,” Taemin says immediately. He rolls to his back and lets his head loll to the side, clumsily using his hand as both a pillow and a phone holder. The mouthpiece isn’t directly lined up but it’s good enough. “And I’m alternating between playing Pokémon and watching Buzzfeed videos and doing one math problem every fifteen minutes with the Kingdom Hearts title theme on repeat in the background, as one does when one lowkey has an undiagnosed attention disorder or whatever,” He digs in his pocket because Luna gave him some gum earlier in chem and he just remembered that he took two. “And then my parents come in, right, and they’re like, ‘have you done your laundry? And I’m like--” he pauses for less than a second to stick the gum into his mouth and suck the first bits of flavor out of it.

“And so I’m like,” he says, “like, no? And they’re like, ‘well, why not?’ and I’m like, ‘because it’s Thursday?’ Like, why the fuck would I do my laundry in the middle of the week, right?” He catches movement out of the corner of his eye; two little kids being ushered out of the sand by their parent. “So then, like,” he says as he wiggles closer to the edge of the bridge to scope out the swingset. It’s empty. He slips off of the bridge while he talks and makes his way over there instead before someone else snags a seat. “My mom scoffs, like, ‘wow, I guess you’re not gonna have anything to wear for that party on Saturday, huh? The one that you begged us to go to?

“Which made like, no fucking sense, right, and I said that, like, ‘that makes no sense; my entire wardrobe isn't made up of five days worth of dirty laundry and I have plenty of stuff to wear?’ And also I didn’t even beg, I just asked twice because they told me they were busy the first time. But anyway, she was like, ‘no, you have nothing because you’re a slob that can’t take care of yourself.’” He picks the third swing because it dips lower than the others and feels better against his butt, coils one arm around the chain, and rests his cheek against the fraying rubber. “So I’m like. That’s a fucking rude as fuck thing to say and follows no logic whatsoever and you’re trash that’s just looking for an excuse to shit on me like usual, except, I didn’t actually say that, because, I mean, I’ve been mostly over my whole constant deathwish thing since I finished summer school last year, you know?

“So anyway, instead I was like, ‘Okay, cool, can you leave now,’ and then my _dad_ just goes, ‘Wow, I hope you’re not this rude to your friends,’ like that’s supposed to make me feel guilty or something, so I’m like, ‘Well, no, why would I be, I’m not an asshole,’ and he was like, ‘Yes you are, you’re being one right now,’ and so I was like, ‘I mean, I’m not to people that I care about,’ and.” He grimaces shortly just thinking about the backlash that followed his statement. Ugh. “And it’s not like it wasn’t true, and it’s not like I didn’t mean it, but I’d just never _said_ it before because I didn’t want to deal with all of the bullshit that would come with it, but then it kind of just slipped out? And yeah.”

He takes a breath, lets it out with a whoosh and lifts his hand enough on the chain so that he can rub his fingers through his hair at the side of his head. There. That’s it. He thinks. For now. His phone is silent for a moment, long enough that he thinks maybe Jonghyun just hung up, but then he hears a deep breath through the speaker.

“Yikes,” is what Jonghyun says to him. Taemin sighs and grips the swing chain minutely tighter. He’s kind of hunched over in the seat because sitting straight up is too much work right now.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to tell you the whole thing. But, like, now they’re still weeping and pissy I guess and I didn’t want to deal with listening to it, because, like. _I don’t care._ So now I’m here at the park and it’s cold and I forgot a jacket, so that sucks. But anyway. What’s up with you, hmm? What were you up to?”

“Oh--uh,” Jonghyun says. Taemin can hear the disconcertion in his voice easily. He supposes the sudden subject change threw him off. One would think he’d be used to it by now, knowing Taemin for however many years it’s been since junior high. Oh well. “I was, uh,” Jonghyun says. “Just watching a movie on my laptop. Chicago.”

“Oh,” Taemin says. “Nice.” He likes Chicago. Or, more accurately, he likes the part where the women sing about murder, and also the part with Lucy Liu. Jonghyun hums an “mmhmm” back that Taemin doesn’t really bother replying to. He just looks up at the sky. The pale, pale blue, the grey clouds, the faint outline of the moon he can see peeking out from behind a tree. After a moment, his eyelids get tired from looking up for so long so he sighs and looks out in front of him instead. The sun is hanging low in the sky but isn’t ready to set yet. It’s too high for seven at night, in his opinion. There’s too much sun these days. It’s not even summer yet. He steps on the ground underneath him and pushes himself into a gentle sway.

“Hey, so,” Jonghyun says then. Taemin hums to show he heard. “Would you mind if I came to the park also?” he asks. “Just to chill with you for a little bit?” He sounds hopeful, but also uncertain, and Taemin sighs.

“No, don’t bother,” he says. “It’s not a big deal.” Jonghyun doesn’t need to come all the way over here just to comfort him or whatever. This phone call is good enough.

“Ahh,” Jonghyun says. “Well, then, uh. Different question. Hypothetical question. Would you be, like, mad, if I came anyway?”

“Jonghyun,” Taemin says slowly. He stares at a person shuffling along the opposite path that he came in on, hood up and phone pressed to their ear. “Is that you walking passed the snack shack?”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun says easily, and when the person looks up, Taemin sees Jonghyun’s familiar wide grin. “Hi,” he says. Taemin smiles back automatically and feels a soft chuckle leave his lips.

“Hey,” he says, and ends the call. He puts his phone on silent and wiggles it into his pocket, leaning more of his weight against the swing chain now that he has both hands free to steady himself. Jonghyun approaches at his leisurely pace, hands stuffed in his pockets and steps confident and relaxed. “Did you bring me a jacket?” is what Taemin chooses to ask him when he finally reaches speaking distance. Jonghyun laughs shortly with a shake of his head.

Well, no,” he says, taking the swing next to Taemin. “Because I’d kinda started walking here in the middle of your story.” Taemin snorts; Jonghyun shrugs. Then he reaches for his zipper and tugs it down. “But, you can borrow mine anyway,” he says. “I have a long sleeve under it.” He shrugs it off his shoulders to reveal what is indeed a long sleeve shirt and hands it over.

“Oh. Thanks,” Taemin says, taking it and wiggling his own arms through it. He wraps it around himself, zips it all the way, pulls the hood up, and tugs the strings to shrink the opening down even smaller. Ahh, yes. Warmth. He sucks his hands into the sleeves next and curls them around the swing chain again. Looking over at Jonghyun next, he sees him gently pushing himself into a slow swing, picking something out from under his pinky nail with one elbow hooked around the chain. He’s staying quiet because he always waits for Taemin to say something first, to break the silence himself when he’s ready. Taemin kind of just stares at him for another minute, half watching him and half zoning out, before he opens his mouth--but before he can get words out, Jonghyun’s face twists into a grimace.

He stops swinging himself, slides off of the seat, and lies down on his back on the playground mat, scrunching his face up at the sky with a hand on his stomach. Taemin peers down at him blearily.

“You okay?” he asks. Jonghyun glances at him, runs his other hand through his hair, sighs.

“Yeah, just,” he says. “I don’t know, I’ve just been getting really nauseous at night for the past couple weeks. It’ll pass.”

“Oh,” Taemin says. He reaches over and kind of pokes Jonghyun’s elbow with his toe. “You should probably get that checked out.” Jonghyun snorts and swats him away.

“Yeah, give me twenty dollars and a ride to the hospital and a dad that doesn’t tell me to be a man and suck it up,” he mutters. Taemin hums. Oh. Right. Yeah. He’s not the only one with a parent that’s trash.

“Sorry,” he says. Jonghyun shakes his head.

“It’s whatever,” he says. Taemin hums again and shrugs. Alright then. He wiggles off of his swing as well to lie down next to Jonghyun and watch the clouds with him. They stay like that for a while, mostly silent, sometimes mumbling little bits of conversation. Jonghyun brings up pokémon while Taemin is making patterns of the soft lines of the clouds above him.

“Did you find a Ralts yet?”

“No, they’re rare as fuck.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“I’m gonna find one eventually.”

“And then Mega Gardevoir will carry your entire team.”

“Yep.”

Taemin closes his eyes against the bright ray of sun that reflects off of a lamp post and keeps them closed for a long time as his mind wanders until he’s scowling so much he has to open his mouth to unload more.

“And it’s not even, like. I’m just. I keep feeling like shit about not caring even though I know I’m not obligated to, like, at all, like. I don’t know if it’s because of the whole ‘you have to love your family no matter what’ thing or because I haven’t figured out my shit about not having that kind of empathy where other people’s emotions affect you or what, and if it makes me, like, extra shitty because I don’t care about them but I d _o_ care about, like, you and Jinki’s cat and the others, like my brain is just picking and choosing who to have empathy for, but I just _keep fucking caring_ about not caring and I _fucking hate_ that I’m feeling like an asshole about this.”

“It’s both.”

“What?”

“It’s both of those things. Backwards societal expectations and internalized ableism about emotional empathy. And caring is different from empathizing. My emotions don’t affect you either, but you like me and worry about me because I’m your friend, so when I have problems you _care_  about me me, but you’re still not empathetic. You care because I’m important to you, not because you understand why I’m feeling upset. You don’t care about your parents because they’re trash and they don’t deserve your compassion. Not because you’re low on emotional empathy. Get it?”

“...oh.”

“You’re not wrong for not caring about them. They’re manipulative garbage.”

“Mmm. I guess. Thanks.”

Taemin keeps his eyes closed after that, but after several minutes of uncomfortable shuffling, Jonghyun lets him use his arm as a pillow. Taemin is glad he’s not looking because he knows Jonghyun is smirking at him right now. He lets out a slow breath as he nuzzles Jonghyun’s sleeve, pulling Jonghyun’s hand to rest on his chest for the comfort of the weight. The sky is easier on his closed lids now and he thinks maybe the sun is finally starting to fuck off. Jonghyun pokes him with a finger to get his attention.

“Do you understand the whole cotangent thing in algebra?”

“Triangles are the bane of my entire fucking existence, dude. I don’t understand shit.” Taemin swats Jonghyun’s prodding finger away and then grabs it to just hold instead. Jonghyun wiggles it; Taemin squeezes it gently. He opens his eyes just enough to squint through the dim lighting and see the sun setting in a vibrant orange on the other side of the lake. It’s mirrored in a shimmer on the water and Taemin watches it slowly sink halfway down the horizon before he squeezes Jonghyun’s finger again. “You know,” he mumbles. “I bet Jinki would give you a ride. To the hospital.” He blinks blearily at the side of Jonghyun’s face until Jonghyun turns to look at him. Their eyes lock for a moment before Jonghyun turns back to sigh up at the clouds.

“Probably,” he says. “But all of my medical shit is under my dad’s stuff because I’m still a minor. He has to make appointments for me.” He wiggles his finger out of Taemin’s grip and takes Taemin’s finger instead. “And I’m gonna turn eighteen next month, so I can do it myself then, but. I would feel weird? Asking Jinki?” He pouts up at the sky and runs his free hand through his hair. “Like, that’s not a normal request? ‘Hey, friend, wanna take me to a doctor appointment for a stomach problem because my father subscribes too heavily to the toxic masculinity of the patriarchy?” Taemin laughs shortly at the example. He probably shouldn’t have, but it escapes his lips before he can stop it. After, he smooths his smile away and pokes Jonghyun’s palm.

“Jinki would understand,” he says simply. Jonghyun glances at him again. Taemin raises his eyebrows just a touch and Jonghyun shrugs.

“Probably,” he sighs again. “I don’t know. I wanna ask my mom but she’s always so busy with work.” He gently lifts his arm until Taemin raises his head, and then wiggles a few inches away. Taemin sets his head back down in the crook of Jonghyun’s elbow instead. “Jinki’s always too busy to do things anyway,” he mumbles. “I tried hanging with him earlier today. Dude lives literally two doors away from me but he won’t even let me in for a friend makeout.”

“He _is_ studying for that psych test,” Taemin says. “You know his parentals don’t let him out at all if he doesn’t keep his grades up.”

“I know,” Jonghyun sighs. “I’ve just been feeling really kissie lately but I have no one to kiss up on. I need my intimate touch quota to stay full or I get really lonely and needy.” He throws his free arm over his eyes dramatically; Taemin shakes his head fondly. He reaches up with the weakest hand to tap his fingers against Jonghyun’s, giving them lazy little boops for a few seconds before it gets too tiring to hold his arm up.

“Why haven’t you asked me then?” he asks. Jonghyun moves his arm to look at Taemin, one brow cocked in askance. Taemin shrugs. “We’ve had friend makeouts before,” he says. “If you need intimacy you know I don’t mind.” His breath is even lemony fresh from his gum. He is a choice babe to make out with right now. Jonghyun frowns a little, though, just a tiny pull down at the corner of his lips, and raises one shoulder in a shrug.

“I wanted to,” he admits, “but, I don’t know. I didn’t want to distract from your problems. We’re here for you, not me.” He shrugs again. Taemin snorts.

“Please,” he says. “I came here to ignore my problems.” Jonghyun chuckles softly, breathy laughter floating from his lips, the kind of laughter that concedes truth. Taemin manages a lazy smile back. “And you helped me with my shit,” he adds. “I can help you with yours.”

“Mmm,” Jonghyun hums. He watches the sky for another minute, and Taemin watches him, before he lets out a slow breath. He turns to Taemin, shifts closer, lifts a curled hand to rest his knuckles against Taemin’s face and rub his thumb over his cheekbone. Taemin leans closer himself. He notices Jonghyun’s eyes on his lips and lets them part slightly, sliding his eyes shut for when Jonghyun wants to lean in.

He does, soon; Taemin can feel his breath against his skin, can feel the way their shoulders press together and their noses bump.

But then, there’s a heavier breath against him, a sigh, the hand leaves his face, and Taemin opens his eyes to see Jonghyun rolling to his back again.

“I want to,” Jonghyun mumbles. “But it’s getting dark. We should get home.” He sits up straight with a grunt and a groan. Taemin follows him with his eyes, then closes them and whines low in his throat. He doesn’t wanna get up. He doesn’t wanna go home. He doesn’t want to go to the effort of walking down and across the street, and he doesn’t want to go to the effort of dealing with his parents when he gets back. “Come on,” Jonghyun says heavily. “You can’t sleep here. It’s illegal.” Taemin feels Jonghyun’s strong hands on his wrists and sighs, but allows himself to be pulled up. He leans on Jonghyun’s side and rests his head against his shoulder, sleepy and tired.

They walk home in silence, Taemin not mentioning when Jonghyun turns right towards Taemin’s house instead of left towards his apartments. He lets Jonghyun wrap his arm around his waist and appreciates the extra stability. Every step is heavy, every few steps are a stumble. His usual tiredness coupled with the exhaustion of emotional turmoil really fucks him up. He almost keeps walking passed his street when they reach it. It’s Jonghyun that gently tugs and turns him down the corner.

When they reach the doorstep, the porch light is off and he can only see the little nightlights on inside. He thinks it’s almost nine by now. He just stands in front of the door, one hand clasped around his keys in his pocket. He sighs. He doesn’t want to deal with it. A soft touch against his wrist brings his attention back to his friend. Jonghyun looks at him, fits his hand on his hip, leans up, and kisses him.

When Taemin finally pulls back and turns his head away, Jonghyun’s arms are fully around his neck and Taemin’s are settled comfortably on his hips, their torsos pressed together warm and comfortable. Jonghyun doesn’t kiss him again, but he nuzzles their cheeks together with a deep, slow breath. Taemin rubs his thumbs in slow circles against Jonghyun’s hips.

“I thought you didn’t want to distract from my problems,” he says. Jonghyun’s shoulders shrug against his.

“I changed my mind,” he mumbles. He squeezes Taemin close, presses his face into his shoulder. “Listen,” he says. “You can pack some stuff and spend the night at my place.” He leans back to look at Taemin with serious eyes. Taemin blinks back slowly. “Friday night too,” Jonghyun says. “And we can go to the party together on Saturday. Amber’s, right?” He waits for Taemin to reply, which Taemin does with a nod. Amber’s basement movie party. They’re gonna marathon Pixar movies. All the cool kids will be there. Jonghyun nods himself. “And then you can spend Saturday night with me too, if you want. You can stay with me if you want a break from them.” He nods his head towards the door, where Taemin notices a faint glow around the edges that wasn’t there before. The hallway light. He breathes out a slow breath and leans to give Jonghyun another kiss for being so good.

“I really would,” he mumbles, “but I don’t want to walk all the way back to your place.” He shakes his head weakly. He’s too tired right now, even if going inside will tire him out also. Emotional drain in range of a bed is better than physical drain almost a mile away from another. Jonghyun’s hopeful face falls a little, but he nods in understanding. He opens his mouth to say something, but Taemin shakes his head again. He wasn’t done. “I’ll pack some stuff… tonight,” he says. “And just… go home with you tomorrow after school instead. Okay?” He could definitely use a sleepover. Jonghyun nods, rubbing his thumbs over the nape of Taemin’s neck.

“Okay,” he says. “Stay safe in there, okay?” he leans up for another kiss that Taemin easily allows. Jonghyun can take all of the intimacy and comfort he wants from him tonight. He can usually, but now especially. Taemin wants to know Jonghyun can count on him the same way he was there for Taemin tonight. Jonghyun pulls back first this time, and steps back, letting Taemin fumble for his keys without protest. Taemin jams them in the lock and gets it open before Jonghyun puts his hand on his wrist to stop him from pulling open the door.

“Also,” he says. “Thank you for caring about me.” He looks at Taemin seriously, with the smallest little smile, and Taemin looks right back. He knows there’s some kind of subtext he was supposed to pick up on, some kind of “I’m glad to be your friend,” type message, but he’s honestly too tired to figure out the specifics. Instead, he leans down, cups Jonghyun’s face, and gives him one last kiss for the road.

“Night,” he says against Jonghyun’s mouth, and turns away after he pulls back to open the door and step inside.


End file.
